


sanguinary

by whatisadestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Ficlet, Hurt, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain, Season 9, Speculation, Violence, inspired by a tumblr post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatisadestiel/pseuds/whatisadestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and he recognised the feeling as bloodlust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sanguinary

It was Sam, who broke the silence that had sat livid in the bunker for the last couple of days.

"Dean, it wasn't your fault," He tried, half-heartedly. His voice was tired. Dean was tired, too.

"Don't even- don't even bother, Sam." He clenched his jaw, only huffing out a short, bitter laugh, crossing his arms.

"It's not as if you knew what you were doing." Sam continued, still refusing to meet his eyes. He stared at his hands, twisting them and fidgeting every now and again.

"I didn't know what I was doing? And that makes it better, huh? Because I didn't know that I did it?" Dean's tone stayed the same, monotonous, yet sharp as a blade.

He didn't know if it was better or worse that he didn't remember. There was screaming, and blood, and the dead falling left and right. There weren't many fighting, but those who were, fought well. Dean fought better. He sliced and hacked and cut his way through his enemies and it felt euphoric. It was dark and light all at once, flashes of the latter flickering and fading and then brightening in quick succession. It reminded him of Hell, and he smiled. He smiled, nostalgic. He was so nostalgic that, in fact, he got caught up in the moment, and began to slice his way through anyone; evil or innocent.

It wasn't as if he had a flash of clarity, and immediately turned to assess his damage. He didn't hesitate, didn't think. No mercy. He didn't rush to his side, try to help him, talk to him, kiss him. He didn't tell him he needed him, and couldn't live without him. He didn't hold his enervated body against his, stroke a thumb down his jaw, choke out that he loved him. He kept fighting.

Dean kept spilling other people's blood, and he let out this truly broken sound, and Dean heard nothing. _Nothing_. He wouldn't have even noticed Castiel bleeding out on the ground if it wasn't for the fact most of the people in the vicinity were dead, or had fled the scene.

He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking through his man-made bloodbath for lone survivors he could take the lives of. As if he hadn't taken enough.

Dean didn't fall to his knees, or confess his love, or kiss the broken man lying in front of him, because he couldn't. So he waited, for Cas to heal. And he waited. And waited. And he wept, because the man-and he was a man, not an angel, just a man- in front of him was broken beyond repair; because of him.

"I _killed_ him!" He roared, slamming his hands down on the table. His words were poison, stuck in his system. Sam flinched, silent.

Castiel's heartbeat-his much too human heartbeat-stopped beneath Dean's blood-soaked fingertips.

"I'm dangerous. Sooner or later, I'm gonna flip out again. So you need to put me down, Sammy, before I do it myself." He gritted his teeth, biting out his words.

There was so much, too much blood on his hands, and none of it his own.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by - http://slayerdeans.tumblr.com/post/84991310587/oh-god-but-guys-what-if-they-make-the-season


End file.
